


A Little Spill

by Klumes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Female Friendship, Flashbacks, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Haunting of Hill House, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Sleep Paralysis, Team Bonding, Team as Family, romanogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klumes/pseuds/Klumes
Summary: One night, Wanda wakes up to Pietro's bullet-shattered body staring down at her. To her misfortune, this is just the start of the ghastly images she would see. The other Avengers are convinced she is just having vivid dreams, but as she persists, one of them starts to rethink everything. Amist adjusting to her new life as an Avenger, Wanda's little spills lead her to confront something that has been haunting her ever since she was six years old.-Meanwhile, Marya Maximoff hates that her little girl is growing up, and she wants nothing else in the world more than she wants to keep her precious children safe. With the help of her upstairs neighbor, Leonora, Marya thinks she has come up with a way to keep her daughter safe forever - no matter what it takes.Note: This story is loosely inspired by the Netflix series The Haunting of Hill House.





	1. The First Time

_Wanda giggled as she sat on her big brother's shoulders, arms stretched out wide at both sides as he spun around. It was a crisp, spring evening, and they were playing in the small meadow they had stumbled across. Areas like this near the Sokovian capital of Novi Grad were hard to come by, so the Maximoff siblings took it upon themselves to enjoy it. It had been nearly five years since their parents had died, so the concept of having fun felt foreign to them both. Nevertheless, they found themselves relaxed in this semi-secluded area._

 

_Wanda folded her arms on top of Pietro's head, resting her chin on top of them. "I am glad we found this place."_

 

_"Me too," agreed Pietro, swaying gently. "Even though we are not, it feels like we are far away."_

 

_"I like that." Wanda said thoughtfully, twisting some of his hair with her finger._

 

_"Let's play a game," he suggested. He lifted her off his shoulders and carefully sat her on her feet._

 

_"Like what?" Wanda smoothed her skirt and then her hair, which had been flowing with the breeze. "Hide and seek?"_

 

_Pietro let out a laugh. "This is a meadow, little sister. Where would we hide?"_

 

_"I don't know!" Wanda squeaked as she playfully jabbed his side with her elbow._

 

_Her brother grabbed her arm and pretended to twist it, stopping only when she plead with him. A mischievous glint laced his eyes. "How about tag?"_

 

_Wanda rolled her eyes. "Just because you always win that!" It was true: Pietro was older and taller than her, and his stride nearly doubled hers._

 

_"Sore loser." Pietro said before tapping her on the shoulder. "Tag! You're it!"_

 

_Before the girl could object, he sped away. Wanda's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, now I'm going to get you, Pietro Maximoff!" She yelled after him. She then proceeded to chase him, falling short of touching him a few times. Neither of them could stop the laughter escaping from within them. For the first time in a while, Wanda forgot that they were homeless, living off of scraps. She forgot that her brother had to subject to stealing to keep them fed. She forgot they were orphans whose parents died not too long ago. She was having fun._

 

_Then, all of a sudden, Pietro burst forth rapidly, far faster than Wanda had ever seen him or any other person run, leaving a bluish-grey streak in the air. Wanda stopped dead in her tracks in an effort to comprehend what was happening. "Pietro?" She called out. When he did not come back, she shouted again. "Pietro!"_

_A feeling of unease flooded through her. The sky had turned to a deeper ash grey, and all the few flowers in the meadow had turned brown and limp. Scared, she wanted her brother all the more. "Pietro?"_

 

_A bluish-grey blurr zoomed towards her and she screeched in fear, trying to avoid its impact. She covered her eyes with her hands, only to peek through her fingers and wish that she hadn't. Now, standing before her, was Pietro, but not like how he was mere seconds ago. He looked older, more ragged, and exhausted...and embedded in his torso were a dozen bullet holes, blood drenching his entire shirt. Horrified, Wanda screamed._

 

_

 

 Wanda's eyes flashed open, and she was relieved to see the ceiling of her room in the new Avenger's compound. Her chest was pounding, and her eyes were wet. But it was just another nightmare, she told herself, nothing a few deep breaths couldn't handle. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. In, then out. Her heartbeat began to slow, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Knowing she wouldn't rest until she verified that there wasn't, she slowly turned her head to the right side of the bed, where she thought she felt someone's presence. It had to be just Steve or Vision; they often were at her side when she had such nightmares. Yes, that was all. Just good Steve and kind, sweet Vision.

 

  But when she turned her head, terror rose within her as she saw that it was not Steve nor Vision; it was Pietro's bloodied body standing over her, staring down at her through glassy eyeballs. Wanda's breath left her and her heart skipped a beat, pupils growing wider and wider. She trembled uncontrollably, and she knew she should scream, but for whatever reason, she could not. She was entranced with what appeared to be her beloved brother.

 

 "Why didn't you save me, sister?" He spoke in Sokovian, a twisted smile curled to his face. "Hmm?"

 

 Wanda wanted to scream. She wanted to look away. She wanted to blast this ghastly figure away from her. Yet she lay there, laboriously breathing. This couldn't be real. Her brother was dead - she saw herself after the battle. Hell, she even watched him be buried. And yet she was wide awake; she knew it. The figure remained, looming over her with that terrifying smile.

  Just as she tried to convince herself that he wasn't real, a drop of blood fell from one of the holes in not-Pietro's chest, landing on her upper arm, the sensation most definitely real. That was what it took to snap her out of her trance, and she bolted upright and gave the most murderous screams, clawing at the area where the blood had fallen.

 

_

 

 Natasha had finally fallen asleep about an hour ago when she was awoken by Wanda's blood-curdling screams. Normally, she would have just brushed it off; nightmares happened frequently for her newest teammate, and most of the time the girl could collect herself and fall back asleep in a few minutes. Sharing a wing with the little witch since her arrival granted her this knowledge. However, the screams persisted, and they were far more violent than usual. Suspecting something was truly wrong, the Black Widow left the comforts of her bed and grabbed her firearm from the nightstand before racing down the hallway, barefoot. She barged through the door, pistol raised and ready.

 

 "Wanda, what's wrong?" She barked upon entering. But then she surveyed the room, and there was absolutely no one else there. Nor were there any traces of anyone coming in or leaving out at all  Her gaze fixed on Wanda, who was still screaming and crying. Said girl hugged her knees and rocked slightly. Natasha softened at the sight, pocketing her weapon and slowly approaching her. She knew better than to further startle this enhanced young woman.

 

 "Wanda," she called, much gentler this time. "It's just Natasha. You had a nightmare, but it's over now. You're in the compound. You're safe."

 

 Her voice managed to stop the screaming. Wanda looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, her chin quivering. It had to be the saddest thing Natasha had ever seen, for she felt something stir up in her that she had never felt before. Those things called maternal instincts, perhaps? But now wasn't the time to think on it; it was time to act on it.

 

 "Is it okay if I touch you?" Natasha didn't really know how to comfort her, but she had seen enough of Steve and Clint interact with the girl when she was in such a state that she was certain she could execute it.

 

  Wanda gulped in a breath then nodded. Taking her cue, Natasha sat herself on the edge of the Sokovian's bed and reached out to stroke her hair. This was a good start, she decided.

 

 "It's okay. It was just a dream," she assured.

 

  But Wanda shook her head and pointed a shaky finger at the other side of the bed, where nothing but bare wall stood. "He...was...right there," she choked.

 

 Natasha assumed the "him" was referring to her brother, the subject of pretty much all her nightmares. She rubbed the girl's back and said, "That was just a dream, Wanda. It wasn't real."

 

 "No," breathed the girl, her eyes remaining wide. "I was awake...he was really there."

 

 The spy heaved a sympathetic sigh. This was the worst one Wanda had had in awhile. "Remember what Sam said? Sometimes when you have really vivid dreams, especially nightmares, you think they're real when you first wake up, but then you soon realize that they aren't. At the time, though, it's like you're still dreaming."

 

"A little spill," whispered Wanda. She gazed at the older woman, who was giving her a confused frown. Wiping a few tears away, she elaborated. "Mama used to tell me about that. She called it a little spill from my dreams."

 

  Natasha was surprised by this personal anecdote; Wanda seldom mentioned her parents for any reason. "Well she's right. It was just a little spill."

 

 The girl stared off into nothingness, shaking her head once again. "It was real this time."

 

  Not wanting to poke the bear, Natasha didn't argue. In the seconds it took her to find the right thing to say, Wanda broke into a wave of sobs and huddled against her. The widow stiffened under her weight - her natural reaction towards anyone unexpectedly making physical contact with her. Forcing herself to relax, she put an arm around the young girl and held her as she sobbed. Her cries made Natasha almost feel bad herself. She considered calling in Steve; he could do a much better job. One could always count on Captain America to make things better. But she decided that she could handle this. She was the Black Widow, after all: she could handle anything.

 

 She rested her hand on the girl's shoulder and rubbed it with her thumb, an action she learned from Clint. Subconsciously, her hand began to slip, and she was alarmed when her thumb touched something wet and sticky that she knew all too well: blood.

 

 Abruptly, she switched on the nearby lamp and pulled Wanda to an upright position, part of her mad at herself for failing to notice the wound earlier. Ignoring the little witch's confused expression, Natasha turned her body so she could see her right arm. Under the dim lamplight, she saw several scratch marks with blood glistening over them.

 

 "Oh, sweetie. Why didn't you tell me you were bleeding?"

 

 "I am not," whispered Wanda.

 

 "Sure you are," insisted Natasha, raising the injured arm. "You must have scratched yourself when you were sleeping."

 

 "No. It came from Pietro." The atmosphere in the room somehow shifted at the mention of her fallen brother's name, and Wanda was becoming as panicked as she was when Natasha first came in. "He was standing there...and his blood...he had so much blood, from the holes...It fell onto me." She curled her lips in discomfort.

 

 " _Malyshka_ ," Natasha began gently. "He was in your dream. You just accidently scratched your arm. It's okay." She hated herself for repeating the same phrase because she hated it when people used it on her. Sometimes things weren't really okay.

 

 "No," breathed the girl, not meeting her eyes.

 

  _Your brother died months ago in Sokovia. You said you felt him go. You even saw his body and buried him. You know he's dead. You know this has to be a dream_. Natasha wanted to tell her this, but it wouldn't have been appropriate. Instead she stood up and offered a hand to Wanda.

 

 "Let's get you cleaned up."

 

 In a very animated manner, Wanda took the spy's hand and allowed her to help her up. Natasha led her into the bathroom, where she found a first aid kit in one of the drawers. (Of course, the Avengers would have a first aid kit in every bathroom.) She dabbled a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide and held it up to the girl's arm.

 

 "It's going to sting a little," she forewarned.

 

   When Wanda didn't respond, the woman proceeded to press it against the mild wound. The little witch only winced and braced herself. Under the bathroom fluorescents, Natasha could see her face more clearly. There was a very pallid outline, and had she not been crying so much her whole face would have been, too. But her nose and cheeks were a deep, rosy shade, making her look feverish. Overall, the poor girl looked like she had seen a ghost.

 

   Natasha discarded the cotton ball in the small waste basket beside the counter. Then, she took out a fresh roll of gauze and strategically wrapped it around Wanda's upper arm. She executed it with such ease she could have done it with a single hand if she wanted to, which she had before. Back when she was in the Red Room, she was forced to tend to her own wounds, so she had been wrapping up cuts and gashes ever since she could remember.

 

 "There," announced Natasha as she patched the end of the strip down. "All fixed for now. Just don't tear it." The girl was still looking as ghastly as before. She really needed some sleep. Natasha cut the lights off before herding her back to her bed. But instead of climbing in, Wanda hesitated.

 

 "Go on," coaxed Natasha. "You've had your course of nightmares. I think this sleep will treat you nicely." Wishful thinking, purely. But the girl could use some optimism occasionally.

 

   Reluctantly, Wanda lowered herself onto her bed, nesting her head in the pillows and watching the Black Widow tuck her in.

 

 "Get some sleep; you'll need it for training tomorrow," instructed the spy. "If you need anything, I'm just down the hall. Promise I won't bite." With that, she stalked away towards the door. However, she only made it halfway when she heard,

 

"Natasha."

 

 She turned around to see Wanda's big brown eyes fixed on her.

 

"Please do not leave me."

 

  It was Natasha's turn to hesitate. Almost every inch of her yearned to tell the girl to stop being unreasonable, or get Steve or even Vision. But only a monster could say no to such a sad face. In spite of herself, she went back and sat on the bed again.

 

 "Alright. But just until you fall asleep."

 

 Wanda nodded. "Okay."

 

 Natasha stretched out on the bed, almost as if she were laying down. Much to her surprise, Wanda curled herself on top of her. Natasha felt trapped, but she remained. If it brought the younger girl comfort, it was the least she could do for her.

 

 "Thank you," muttered the little witch out of nowhere.

 

 Natasha wasn't sure if it was for anything specific, so she just replied with a, "You're welcome."

 

 Wanda rested her head on her shoulder and said very sleepily, "He was really here, Nat."

 

  Natasha just ran her fingers through her brunette locks until she felt the girl's breathing steady. After half and hour, when she was certain the kid was asleep, the agent carefully slid out from under her and left for her own room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing a fic, so I am still figuring things out. However, I am very eager about this story and am very excited to share it.
> 
> Wanda is one of my favorite characters, and I feel like MCU failed to properly develop her personality. I also disliked the lack of interaction between the only two female Avengers. So that is what I'm fixing in this fic.
> 
> (Also, as mentioned in the summary, this story is loosely inspired by The Haunting of Hill House, a Netflix series that I highly recommend, even to those not traditionally a fan of horror.)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Breakfast at Rhodey's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda bonds with a teammate, and Steve catches feelings.

Wanda woke to find herself alone in her bed. The sun was now up and shining, though it was still soft. She was relieved, as she didn't have to address the events of last night just yet. Everything about it didn't quite feel real: seeing his body and Natasha coming to comfort her. She shuddered at the thought of Pietro's figure, which she was still certain that she was awake when she saw it. What she did not tell her teammate was that she felt something similar to what she had not felt in months - his presence in her mind. But it was different this time, like it was there but wasn't. It was a hollow, pulseless connection. However, now was not the time to dwell on this thought; she had to hurry up and get ready to make an appearance at breakfast before she roused any suspicions.

 

 She forced herself out of the comforts of her king sized bed, which was almost too large and intimidating to her liking, and into the shower. Before stepping in, she removed the bandages Natasha had wrapped around her. Her arm was looking pretty normal, with just a few faint scratches. Naturally, the shower Tony Stark would install in his facility was one of those ultra-modern ones completely surrounded by glass. Though she enjoyed the warm yet crisp drops of water falling onto her skin, she found herself glancing out of the steamed glass the whole time. When she was finished, she threw on a pair of black leggings, a sports bra, and a pink tank top for training. Pink wasn't really her color, but Tony's girlfriend Pepper Potts had went out and bought her a decent amount of athletic wear, and Wanda could not bear to see gifted clothing go to waste. Not bothering to cover the nearly invisible marks on her arm, she tied her damp hair into a messy bun before heading down to the communal kitchen.

 

 When she first arrived here, she could never remember where everything was nor how to get there. The new compound was a maze to her; the sleek hallways and polished rooms had all appeared the same to her. The first thing she remembered was that her bedroom was on the third floor. There were three bedrooms (every one called them rooms, but they were all much bigger than her whole apartment in Sokovia) on the third floor: hers, Natasha's, and a spare that Agent Hill occasionally occupied if she had to stay the night. There was also a decent sized living space by the elevator that included a small kitchen. Why one place needed so many kitchens was beyond her.

 

 All the guys stayed on the fourth floor, except for Vision, since he didn't sleep. The synthezoid drifted wherever he pleased during the dark hours of the night. Often, when she herself couldn't sleep, Wanda would get up to find him, and they'd talk for hours about anything and everything, but mostly about their struggles of being new to the team and their latest pop culture discoveries. And if she did fall asleep, he would kindly take her back to her bed and tuck her in. She guessed Vision was her best friend here.

 

 Though Wanda wasn't sure if they could be considered friends, she liked having Natasha under the same ceiling. Sure, the spy was cold and reserved, but she always seemed to have the best advice about anything Wanda asked her about, and even on things she didn't. It was the simplest of things that helped her the most, like what she should wear for training and the best way to put back her hair. Without the older woman, Wanda would have been just as unruly as the boys.

 

 The kitchen was empty by the time she got down there. It was 10 o'clock, so everyone was already at the gym warming up. Everyone, that was, except for Colonel James Rhodes, who stood over the counter flipping the waffle machine while whistling to himself. Though she had never seen him touch the appliance before, he seemed to know what he was doing.

 

 Colonel Rhodes was a nice man, however she didn't know him too well. In fact, this made the second time they had been in a room alone together. This was mostly due to the fact that he was Iron Man's best friend, so whenever Tony came to visit, (which was often, despite the fact he was "retired") Rhodes was at his side. And Tony was one Wanda hadn't warmed up to yet. She tried to forgive him, just like he and all the other Avengers forgave her for joining a terrorist organization and trying to manipulate their minds. She remained cordial around him, and often thanked him for everything he bought for her. (Countless things she had no need for, such as a laptop and a guitar.) But she could never be around him long without becoming anxious. Some things took much longer to let go of.

 

 She didn't realize she was staring until the Colonel happened to turn her way. "Hey, there you are," he greeted merrily. "We were wondering when you were coming, but Natasha told us to fuck off and let you sleep."

 

 Wanda only responded with a sheepish smile whilst she internally hoped Natasha hadn't revealed the reason she needed the extra sleep.

 

"Do you need help?" She asked as she approached him.

 

"Nah, I'm almost done," replied Rhodes.

 

 Wanda noticed a thick stack of fluffy, golden waffles on the other side of the man and concluded that she was indeed hungry. Perhaps she could put a couple of pop tarts in the toaster or scramble some eggs.

 

"Actually, there is something you can help me with."

 

 Very seriously, Wanda blinked up at him. "Anything."

 

 A grin flashed on the War Machine's face, causing the girl to feel nervous for a second. Was this a trick to see if he could get her to do literally anything? She had learned the Avengers had a thing for pranks. Finally, he spat out, "Help me finish all of these waffles." Pure relief. "I can't and shouldn't eat them all on my own, and it's best to eat them fresh."

 

 A more genuine smile crept up on Wanda's face. "Are you sure?"

 

 Rhodes gave her a friendly, dramatic nod. "Um... yeah I'm sure! Get yourself a plate."

 

 The little witch couldn't surpress her giggle as she went to his other side. She was about to reach for a plate, but stopped as her hand could surpass the counter. Instead, she tilted her palm up towards the cabinet and allowed her scarlet to spill out. She concentrated hard as the tendrils pulled it open and brought down the plate of her choosing. The dish wobbled for a moment, but she was able to steady it so that it landed smoothly onto the counter. Then her powers shut the cabinet door, the result a little rougher than she intended, just short of a slam. No longer needing to focus, she glanced over at Rhodes. He was staring at her, but in fascination rather than fear.

 

"I will never get used to that." Mused the Colonel.

 

 Wanda shrugged humbly and piled a waffle on her plate before taking a seat at one of the nearby tables. She chose the round glass one because it was the smallest, and she wasn't in the mood to perch on a bar stool. She applied some syrup to the waffle, then proceeded to eat it. As soon as the piece she had cut graced her taste buds, her eyes widened in surprise.

 

"Colonel!" She semi-exclaimed, causing the man to quickly turn her way.

 

"Yes, Wanda?"

 

 Wanda forced herself to swallow the piece down; it wasn't polite to talk with a mouth full. "These are really good!"

 

 Rhodes' face was a mixture of pride and relief. "Thank you. Glad you like them." He plopped the now-finished waffle out of the mold and onto a plate. Within seconds, he was seated across the table from the girl.

 

"How come you never made these before?" She inquired.

 

 The War Machine took a bite and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I did a few times since your...arrival, but that was when you...didn't like breakfast."

 

 Wanda noted his epithets for: _since we took you in after Ultron_ and _when you'd lock yourself in your room and cry and refuse to come out or eat anything_. Normally, she would have hated it, people glazing over the brutal realities. But she knew he was just being considerate, and she appreciated that.

 

"You should make them more often, now that I like breakfast."

 

 Rhodes smiled at her suggestion. "Maybe I will."

 

 The two of them continued with small talk during the next few minutes. He tried to explain to her how American football worked and why it was such a big thing. Wanda couldn't comprehend any of it; she never understood sports anyways. Why people cared so much about kids' games was beyond her.

 

"I have to take you to a game some time," he stated. "I don't think we can live under the same roof if you don't know what a field goal is."

 

"A _field_ goal?" Wanda shook her head. "I do not even want to know."

 

 After two waffles, she was full. She finished the glass of orange juice she had gotten between them and didn't notice him standing there, arms folded with a smirk of amusement on his perfect face.

 

"Can you two wrap up your chit-charting and come down to training like you were supposed to an hour ago?"

 

 Wanda snapped her head up to see Captain America across the kitchen, playfully standing with his hands on his hips. She blushed and lowered her chin. "Sorry."

 

"And why aren't _you_ at training?" Rhodes hit back.

 

 Wanda covered her mouth with her hands to giggle.

 

"I had to come get some energy bars!" Steve defended himself. "We're all out down there, and you know how Sam gets when he doesn't get all his protein."

 

"Yeah, yeah," said the Colonel.

 

 Steve went over to the cabinet and grabbed a box of protein bars, holding them up for his teammates to see.

 

"Alright, whatever. Let me clean up in here, then I'll be on my way." Rhodes dabbed his mouth with his napkin and set it on his now-empty plate.

 

"I can do it, if you want me to," offered Wanda. She felt bad, speaking he had done all the cooking as well.

 

"No, kid," he dismissed. "Go with Steve; I don't want him telling everyone I'm a bad influence."

 

"You are not," she assured him.

 

"C'mon, Wanda. Let's go." Steve was at the doorway again.

 

"Coming." She stood up and pushed her chair in, stopping herself just as she was about to leave and looked at the man still seated across from her.

 

"Thank you for breakfast, Colonel Rhodes."

 

He grinned kindly and said, "You're welcome, Wanda. And please, call me Rhodey. Everyone does."

 

A warm, genuine smile spread across Wanda's face. "Yes, Rhoday."

 

 After he nodded at her, she scurried after Steve, who was already making a beeline towards the elevator.

 

_

 

"Have a good breakfast?" Steve asked once Wanda got into the elevator. He reached over to ruffle her already-messy hair.

 

 The girl smiled. "I did. Rhodey makes the best waffles."

 

 Steve thought for a moment. "He does, doesn't he?"

 

 He was truly surprised to see her smiling and laughing this morning, since Natasha had told him the girl had an ugly nightmare the previous night. Maybe it wasn't all that bad.

 

"What am I going to be doing today, Cap?"

 

The excitement in her voice brought a grin to his face. He could always tell when she was excited; even if her tone didn't give it away, her accent would. It always thickened, just like the first time they had ever met in the shipyard. It was so astounding how far she had come that it gave him a surge of pride and happiness whenever he saw her smile.

 

"Do your stretches first, then Natasha and I will tell you."

 

 Wanda crossed her arms. "Why can you not tell me now?"

 

 Steve shrugged and admitted honestly, "We haven't decided yet."

 

 When they entered the gym, they were greeted by a loud howl from Sam, followed by a whine.

 

"We were supposed to be _boxing_ , Natasha. Not choking people with our thighs!"

 

 Steve and Wanda exchanged amused glances before tiptoeing towards the commotion.

 

"You should always be ready for anything, Birdman." The spy retorted.

 

 Both the captain and the witch let out a wave of chuckles when they finally saw them: Sam was laying on the floor, massaging his neck, while Natasha stood triumphantly over him. Steve thought she looked magnificent, even with the sweat speckled all over her body and her signature red hair a bit of a mess. He didn't know how she always managed to look so good all the time. Makeup, no makeup; well-rested, exhausted; happy or upset; bruised or unbruised - he had seen her through all of these, and not once had she appeared anything short of beautiful.

 

"Man, Steve! Help me out over here; that wasn't right!"

 

 Sam's words brought the former soldier back from his thoughts. "Hmm? Oh." He gave a shrug. "Woman's right; we train to be prepared for anything."

 

 Sam gaped at him, and Natasha stuck her tongue out at the pilot.

 

"Really, Rogers?" Sam said in mock hurt.

 

 Steve gave him a hopeless stare and raised his arms in defeat. "Sorry, pal."

 

 The other man growled at him. "I'm really gonna get you this time, Rogers. Oh man, I promise!"

 

 Steve stared at his best friend and knocked on his tight abs. "You can always try."

 

 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Natasha watching him do so, and he felt his ears grow flush. Why was he like this all of a sudden? And by sudden, he meant this whole month. He had been feeling strangely around his partner, and he found himself thinking about her a lot. He also began paying more attention to the clothes she wore, too, especially during training. Surely it was just because they were such good friends, right? It wasn't like he had a _crush_ on her or anything. No, that would be silly.

 

 Natasha removed her boxing gloves and hung them up. She came up and placed a hand on Wanda's shoulder. Wanda. Steve had completely forgotten the girl was next to him.

 

"You boys have fun. Wanda and I are going to warm up," said Natasha.

 

"But you're already so hot," blurted Steve before he even knew he was thinking it.

 

 Thankfully, Sam started chuckling. "If anything, she needs to cool down."

 

Steve was silently grateful for his comment.

 

 Natasha smirked and rolled her eyes. "Let's go, kid."

 

Obediently, the little witch followed her out into the other part of the gym. Steve's eyes were trained on the redhead, watching her disappear around the corner. He sort of wished she hadn't left just yet.

 

"C'mon, man, let's go!"

 

 His attention turned back to Sam, who was beating his chest. "Yeah, lets go."

 

"But first, give me one of those damn Clif bars!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Rhodey, so I thought it would be cute to have a friendship between him and Wanda. He is so underrated, and one of the few things I liked about Endgame was that he recieved sufficient screen time. 
> 
> And yes, I made Steve a hopeless romantic. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Team Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda gets triggered during training.

"We'll start with twenty-five situps and then plank for a minute and a half," instructed Natasha as soon as they entered the gym part of the gym. At least, that's what Wanda called it. The whole wing was dedicated for training areas, and within the training area was a medium sized room with a variety of exercise equipment, ranging from regular dumbbells to high-tech treadmills. Boxing, sparring, and flying was done outside of this room, making it the most boring. For the longest time, Wanda unfortunately had been confined to said room.

 

 She had to be in good physical condition, they had told her. Until then, she had never considered that she, a malnourished child who spent years confined to a box, was not physically fit. But now, months later, she noticed something she hasn't possessed previously: muscle and abs. Though her abs still didn't come close to Natasha's, she was proud of them. That, along with the proper nourishment she had been receiving, made her look much, much healthier.

 

"Why must I do all this again?" Wanda grumbled as she sat on the mat. "I do this," she let out a small trickle of scarlet from her palm. "Not this." She raised her arms as if she were lifting a weight.

 

 Natasha rolled her eyes, making the younger girl regret her diction. "I say this to you again: if anything happens to your powers, you'll be thankful for the self-backup."

 

 Wanda's heart pounded with worry at the thought. Seemingly sensing her panic, Natasha added, "The chances of that happening are very small, though." She sat down a few feet away from the girl. "But it's best to be prepared."

 

 Wanda nodded in agreement. It made logical sense; a backup would be good. But she still dreaded the idea of her trying to fend for herself without her powers; that was all she knew. Pietro had taught her some basic defense moves when they were first orphaned, however, he was always there to be the protector so she seldom had to use them.

 

 Her mind was distracted by another detail that didn't really seem to fit. She turned to her mentor with a furrowed brow and asked, "Why are you doing this with me? Have you not already stretched?"

 

The spy gave a careless shrug. "That was hours ago."

 

 Wanda decided not to argue - it wasn't like she had a chance of winning, anyways. She proceeded with the work out, knocking out twenty-five situps in less than five minutes - impressive for her, but not Natasha, who finished in nearly half that time. Then came Wanda's least favorite part: planking. She felt her back splitting every time, now being no exception. She watched as Natasha made it look as easy as laying down, whilst Wanda was trying not to break.

 

 After two minutes passed, Natasha suggested they jump rope for a little while. This the girl gratefully accepted - it was something she could do pretty well. As a child, she couldn't afford many toys, but one thing she did have was a jump rope. With that single rope, she acquired various skills. She could hop with one foot - backwards, even - jump while twirling in a circle, skip forward and backwards; she could do it all. That jump rope was one of the many things that were destroyed when Stark's missile came crashing into her humble yet happy abode. And, as much as she had loved it, the rope had been the least of her concerns.

 

 A few months into their orphaned lifestyle, the Maximoff siblings discovered that a family that lived on the first floor of a complex a few blocks from the market always left their recreational equipment right outside their back door. Those pieces consisted of a soccer ball, a lone tennis racket (oddly never accompanied by any balls), and a jump rope. Ever so often, Wanda and Pietro would wander over to that complex and snatch the ball and jump rope and hide a safe distance away to play with them. Typically, Pietro busied himself with the soccer ball, while Wanda applied her mastery with the jump rope. Those nights, they would have so much fun, but they had always made certain that they returned the toys exactly how they had found them.

 

"Wow, Maximoff. I've never seen you so into an exercise."

 

 It took Wanda a few seconds to register Natasha speaking to her, and even more to notice that she was alternating her feet to hop on, moving side to side. The older woman was still jumping normally a few feet away from her, giving her an amused look.

 

 Wanda looked away from her and muttered, "Sorry." She reduced herself to a normal jump.

 

"Don't have to be." Natasha's tone was dry as ever.

 

 When they concluded their exercises, they went to join the rest of the team outside in the training room.

 

"We will be divided into two teams," instructed Steve in his captain voice. "Sam, Wanda, and Vision, and me, Natasha and Rhodey."

 

"Aww sweet! We got the robot!" Sam cheered, holding his hand out to Vision for a high-five.

 

 The synthezoid tilted his head. "I do not like to be referred to by that term, but I appreciate your elation to work with me." Vision returned the high-five as he spoke, but turned to Wanda before Sam could say anything. "I am also looking forward to work with you too, Wanda."

 

The little witch blushed and tried to maintain eye contact. "Thanks, Vis."

 

"What's our objective?" Rhodey asked, saving her from the awkward interaction.

 

"Get to the case of files first," said Natasha. She nodded towards a sleek grey briefcase sitting on a lone pedestal on the opposite side of the room.

 

Wanda couldn't help the smart twist in her lips. "Well that looks easy."

 

 She had only meant for Sam and Vision to hear her, but Natasha quickly shot a glare at her. "You've got a lot to learn, little witch."

 

 Biting the inside of her cheek, said witch folded her arms around herself and stared at a random section of the floor. Natasha Romanoff was one of those people that, without even trying, made you feel as if you didn't know anything at all. Part of Wanda admired that; could she be like that someday?

 

"And we're going to teach you," added Steve gently, giving the Widow a side glance that was ignored. Wanda knew he was just trying to make her feel better, like he always did, and she had to admit that it was working.

 

Natasha clapped her hands together. "Alright, let's start!"

 

 Wanda filed into a line beside Sam and Vision. Across from them stood the other half of their team in an almost symmetrical formation. Steve gripped his shield, Rhodey secured his helmet over his head, and Natasha wore destruction on her face. Sam was ready to deploy his wings, and Vision got into a defensive stance. Wanda released a ball of scarlet and cradled it in her palms.

 

"Three...two...one..." Steve glanced around to ensure everyone was prepared. "Go!"

 

Immediately, Steve's side charged at Wanda's side.

 

"Vision! You take on Steve. Wanda! Get Rhodey," commanded the Falcon as quickly as he could. With a lower voice he said to himself, "And the spider is all mine."

 

 Adrenaline pulsed through Wanda as she used her powers to levitate in the air. Following her lead, the War Machine became airborne as well. Wanda threw the ball of scarlet at him, causing him to lose balance.

 

"Uh-uh, Maximoff." His robotic voice said. He sent a blast her way, but she ducked just in time.

 

Wanda smirked. "Uh-huh, Maximoff."

 

 They took turns jabbing at each other. Afraid of injuring him, Wanda refrained from unleashing her maximum strength, and she felt that he was doing the same. Below them, Steve and Vision were fist to fist, and Sam was trying to break from Natasha's grip.

 

 At one point, Rhodey swooped downward to Steve's aid, and Wanda had a clear shot of the briefcase. Not wasting any time, she flew over towards it and snatched the briefcase from the pedestal. A wave of pride briefly flowed within her, but she knew it was not over yet.

 

"Girl's got it!" Steve called to his half.

 

Sam looked up at her and clapped his hands. "Good, good! Don't let them take it!"

 

 Wanda nodded at him and kept a firm grip on the case. Rhodey launched himself back in the air, and Sam went after him, but the Falcon was cut short when one of Natasha's widow bites clipped his wings.

 

Sam landed on his back, sliding across the floor. Wanda starred in mild dismay, clutching the briefcase even tighter.

 

"Damn." Her teammate swore as he sat up, massaging his head. "Why didn't you save me, Wanda?"

 

 His tone was teasing, yet Wanda froze instantly. She could hear the others sparring behind her, but she could not move. Those words played in her head over and over again, and she was greeted by a swarm of panic. _Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you save me?_ Only at this point, Sam's voice had faded into Pietro's, just as she had heard the night before. The vivid image of her brother's battered body flashed through her mind, right down to the crooked smile.

 

_Why didn't you save me, sister?_

 

 A heavy gasp escaped from her, and the next thing she knew the briefcase slipped from her hold and tumbled to the floor with a loud _crash_ that echoed throughout the room. It was at that moment she realized all the fighting had stopped, which meant all eyes were on her. Tears of fear and embarrassment welled in her eyes. They were going to think she was crazy. They were going to think she'd lash out uncontrollably. They were going to fear her again.

 

 Vision was the first to approach her with his ever-calm voice. "Is everything alright, Wanda?"

 

 The little witch opened her mouth to reply to her dearest friend, but she couldn't summon anything to come out. No, everything was not alright.

 

"Did you get hurt, kid?" Steve asked, ever concerned. He came to her other side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

 All she could do was shake her head. Her mind rapidly flashed from Pietro's body and her concerned teammates, flustering her.

 

"Was it what I said?" Sam, who was now standing, offered. "It was supposed to be a joke, but I'm sorry if it came out wrong."

 

 Again she shook her head, wishing they would all go away. Whatever was happening, she had to fight it on her own.

 

 Steve guided her to a bench and sat her down, providing no indication of leaving her. Rhodey even handed her a glass of water he had somehow obtained. Knowing it would make them all feel better, she took it and attempted to drink some. However, her hands trembled too much and she dropped the glass. Rhodey caught it just before it could shatter.

 

"I think we should call it a day on her training," spoke Natasha, who had been silent up until then. Or maybe she was speaking, but Wanda couldn't hear her over the phantom plea that was echoing through her head.

 

 Ignoring her words, Steve met the girl's eyes. "Can you tell us what's wrong?"

 

 No, she couldn't. Even if she was capable of forming words, there was no way she could ever tell him about her supposed dream. As much as she loved how her new teammates looked out for her, sometimes they worried a little too much. Since she didn't wish that worry on any of them, she tried to keep as much of her trauma as she could from them. She decided to keep her vision to herself - and Natasha, whom she had already told too much to. Luckily, the spy knew how to keep a secret.

 

"Well, this is peculiar." Vision said, tilting his head to the side.

 

Sam mirrored his action. "What is?" Now, all four the Avengers faced the synthezoid.

 

"Wanda is not in any physical pain," he stated, about to say something else but stopped. "That is all I can see."

 

 At that moment, Wanda wanted to hug him. She knew Vision could read into her mind if he desired, but he respected her enough not to do so, nor tell the others what he saw if he did. A "thank you" rose to her throat, but she choked on it, producing a single sob.

 

"Maybe something we did triggered her anxiety," suggested Steve. It was evident that Captain America was desperate for answers.

 

"I can talk with her when she calms down." Sam offered, slipping into his therapist professionalism.

 

Before anyone could agree, Natasha spoke up. "I don't think that's necessary." When the agent was met by confused frowns, she continued. "She just needs a moment. To relax. Maybe take a shower. I'll take her upstairs."

 

Steve looked wary at this suggestion, though Wanda was fond of it. The idea of being away from everyone was highly appealing.

 

"I don't know, Nat," hesitated the soldier. "Maybe we should get her examined."

 

 At this, Wanda stiffened. "Getting examined" meant doctors would be involved. Having been experimented on by the neo-Nazi terrorist organization H.Y.D.R.A, people in those long, white coats and surgical masks armed with needles terrified her. She had only been to the medical wing a grand total of two times. One was after the Battle of Sokovia. She had refused to go, and initially Natasha mended her wounds to the best of her ability, but the older woman insisted that she needed some stitches in her abdomen where a robot had pierced its finger through. She had to be sedated throughout the entire process. The second time was when she wasn't eating. She wasn't sedated that time, but both Steve and Sam had to hold her down. Needless to say, the last place she wanted to be was the medical wing.

 

"We should let her decide for herself," chimed in Rhodey. "Let her make her own choice. She knows herself better than we do." His comment was met by silence and exchanged glances.

 

Natasha shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

 

"But she isn't talking." Sam pointed out.

 

"She can still nod or shake her head," said Rhodey.

 

 Going with what they had agreed on, Steve knelt in front of the Sokovian and asked, "Wanda, do you want to go with me to the medical wing to make sure everything's alright, or would you rather have Natasha take you to your room?"

 

"How's she supposed to nod to that, idiot?" The Falcon crossed his arms.

 

 This was a decision Wanda did not have to think much on. She inhaled a breath before quietly saying, "Nat."

 

The Black Widow flashed a prideful smirk and patted Steve's shoulder. "Can't win 'em all, Cap."

 

The man stood up with a sigh of defeat. "Fine. But if she starts feeling worse..."

 

Natasha practically snorted. "Steve, I've got this."

 

 Sam raised his eyebrows at her feistiness  and pursed his lips. Steve raised his hands in surrender. "Not doubting you, Nat. Just wanna be sure we're on the same page here."

 

"Of course we are," said Natasha as she took his spot beside Wanda. "We're a team."

 

The girl tried not to flinch when the woman placed a sweaty hand under her chin to raise it up. "Can you walk alright?"

 

 Wanda cleared her throat and responded with a strong, "Yes." She met the concerned eyes of all the guys and forced a smile. "I feel better now. Thank you."

 

Though Steve did not look completely assured, Rhodey returned a soft grin. "Let us know if you need anything."

 

"Yes," added Vision, floating to the Colonel's side. "Do inform me if you are in need of any form of assistance."

 

 An odd feeling flooded through Wanda's body. It was like a sensation from her stomach to her chest. She didn't know what it was, but it didn't feel bad. She tried to pinpoint a reason as to why it felt vaguely familiar, but her attempts were unsuccessful. She felt Natasha lifting her to her feet and put the phenomenon aside.

 

"I will," she promised.

 

Natasha loosely wrapped an arm around her waist. "Bye, boys." She called over her shoulder.

 

After a few more reassurances, the women were finally free to step into the elevator.

 

"See what I've been putting up with all these years?" Natasha grumbled, but fondly, as she pressed the "3" button.

 

 Wanda, who had lodged herself in the corner, was not in the mood to joke back. She anticipated the moment she could curl into bed and not have to deal with anyone. But then she recalled the instances of last night, and made her shudder.

 

"So, what happened out there?" The agent asked casually.

 

 Wanda suddenly became very interested in her thumbs, watching them wriggle against each other.

 

"No, seriously kid."

 

Her tone got the little witch to look up at her. Was that concern she detected? She knew a "Nothing" wouldn't satisfy the Widow. Not looking up, she mumbled, "I heard him."

 

"Who? Sam?"

 

"No, none of them. Pie-" she couldn't bring herself to finish.

 

Natasha nodded as if she understood. But she didn't. Last night, she had so adamantly told Wanda that she was only dreaming. However, the girl knew otherwise. If only she could get her to understand.

 

"And what did he say?" Natasha asked carefully.

 

Wanda swallowed and internally braced herself. "Why didn't you save me, sister?"

 

The older woman's expression, which usually betrayed nothing, twisted into somewhat of a sympathetic one. "And when Sam said that, it made you remember."

 

Wanda nodded solemnly. Her heartbeat began to increase; she didn't want to revisit that occurrence. She tried to hide it the best she could.

 

"Third floor, ladies," announced the cheerful voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y.

 

"Thanks, Fri," said Natasha as they exited the elevator.

 

 Though she had been living there for months now, the Sokovian was still not accustomed to the talking A.I. It was one thing for the voice to come out of seemingly nowhere, but it was a different thing when you could talk back to it and have a conversation as if it were a real person.

 

 Still hugging herself, the girl followed Natasha, who was heading straight to Wanda's room. She wanted to talk more, Wanda knew. They stepped into the room, and Wanda threw herself on her bed, not caring how sweaty she was from training. Respectively, Natasha took a seat on her desk chair, crossing her legs expectantly. Wanda repositioned herself to where she could face her.

 

"You would not believe me, but I know I was awake when I saw him."

 

The spy just leaned forward and rest her chin on her hand. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes," blurted Wanda, a little more aggressive than she intended. Why couldn't she be as swift as the other woman?

 

"But you remember what we talked about, right? About dreams, and how they can "spill", as you say."

 

"Nevermind." Wanda didn't bother making eye contact anymore. She curled into a ball, wishing the bed would swallow her whole. The more they discussed it, the more stupid it made her feel. Surely Natasha was right- it was just a vivid dream, a mere spill. No further logic could argue otherwise. She heard the spy rise from the chair.

 

"I'll leave you alone now, but this isn't over." There was a pause of words and a session of footsteps. "And take a shower. Promise it'll make you feel better...and save you from athlete's foot."

 

 Wanda wrinkled her nose at the mention of the condition. No one she knew directly had it, but she had seen pictures, and that had been enough to gift her with the paranoia to bring an extra change of socks to work out in. She didn't intend to reply to the Widow, but she found it the right time to ask the question that had been tugging at her.

 

Poking her head up, she asked, "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

 

At the door, Natasha gave some sort of half-smirk. "We girls gotta look out for each other, Maximoff." She stated matter-of-factly.

 

Once alone, Wanda groaned into the mattress before finally getting up to take a shower; she had a long list of problems at the moment, and athlete's foot was not going to be one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first couple chapters have been a bit slow, but they set the necessary foundation for the rest of the story. Things will pick up soon, I promise. 
> 
> Next chapter should be out in a few days. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. A Mother's Conviction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokovia isn't the most ideal place to raise a family, but Marya Maximoff tries her best.

_Sokovia, then_

_\---------------------_

  The crooked needle weaved its way through the thin fabric, connecting the two wayward strands to fill in the gaping hole. It had seen better days, yet it was still able to execute any task at hand. Having two young children made her an excellent seamstress, which happened to also be her way of living. She sat on one of the simple wooden dining chairs and rested her forearms against the table. Her long, brown hair was carefully tucked into a neat bun atop her head to prevent it from falling into her view.

 

"Mama! Mama! Can we go play outside?"

 

 Marya looked up from her mending to see the six year-old version of herself pleading with her big, soft hazel eyes. Her daughter's lips were pursed into an equally persuasive smile, causing Marya to smile warmly. Setting her work down, she cupped one of her child's cheeks, which had not yet lost all its baby fat. Marya never wanted that to happen. No, she wanted her baby girl to remain just as she was at the present moment.

 

"Of course you can," she told half of her soul.

 

"Yay!" Wanda cheered, her eyes lighting up instantly. She scampered across the small living room and yelled, "She said we can go!"

 

 Marya chuckled at her excitement. Sometimes it saddened her that she could not afford to buy her children nice things, such as new clothes or toys. But because they were destitute, her offspring took enjoyment in the simplest of things, and she would do anything in her power to keep those things available to them.

 

 Emerging from the apartment's only bedroom was a small flash of silver making its way to the front door. "Beat you down the stairs, Wanda!"

 

"Not so fast," said Marya just before he could reach the knob.

 

A sigh of annoyance was emitted from the other half of her soul. "What?"

 

Marya playfully smirked at her son. "Are you going to leave without saying goodbye to your mother?"

 

Pietro rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Mama. C'mon, Wanda; let's go!"

 

But Wanda did not follow his lead. Instead, she bounded over to Marya and threw her arms around her neck. "Bye, Mami!"

 

Marya returned her embrace, cherishing her daughter's weight pressed against her body. "Goodbye, my sweet girl."

 

 Sooner than the woman would have liked, Wanda drew back and kissed her mother's cheek before taking a stand beside Pietro. The girl looked up at her older brother and tilted her head. "Aren't you going to kiss Mama goodbye?"

 

 The boy looked as if he was about to object, but he was ever a sucker to his little sister. Pietro was at that age where he was trying to get people to perceive him as tough and independent, going as far as being embarrassed when his parents gave him affection in front of other people. Marya knew he was a good, sweet boy inside, but she wasn't sure how long that would last, as he would be a teenager in a couple years. She dreaded the day Wanda would reach that stage.

 

 Pietro darted across the room and pecked a kiss on her cheek. "Love you, Mama," he mumbled. "Let's go now." Eagerly, he pulled open the front door, about to step out when Marya added,

 

"Don't forget: when you hear me whistle, it's time to come home."

 

Pietro, who had heard this a million times, nodded sarcastically. "We know, Mama."

 

 Marya knew they did, but she always liked to make sure. It was how she kept them safe. Turning to her daughter, she said, "Let me hear you say it, Wanda."

 

Wanda straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. "Whistle means it's time to come home," she chirped.

 

"That's my girl," praised Marya. The mother and daughter locked eyes with each other, and, without verbally saying anything or moving, transmitted a message of _I love you_. It was a secret thing between the two of them. Wanda never mentioned it to her brother, and Marya didn't think her beloved Django noticed, and if he did, he never commented on it.

 

" _Now_ we can go, Wanda. I'll still beat you down the stairs!"

 

"Hey, no fair!" The girl grabbed her jump rope that was hanging on the doorknob.

 

Just as her children surpassed the threshold, Marya shouted, "Look out for each other!"

 

"We will!" Wanda slammed the door shut.

 

Marya knew they would, just as they always did. They were twins, after all. Well, she reminded herself, not entirely. While her babies did share the same birthday, Pietro was born four years before Wanda. But when they first introduced their little boy to his newborn sister, he fell in love with her instantly, and Django had made a joke about them being twins. It was at that point when Pietro began referring to Wanda as his "twin baby sister". This confused many people, but neither Marya or Django had the heart to correct him.

 

 She continued with her mending, wanting to get done with it soon so she could move on to a different piece that was from a client of hers. But Pietro only had three shirts that could fit him currently; the boy was growing like a weed, and he always managed to tear holes in them. Marya had reprimanded him for playing too rough, but he insisted that he wasn't. She had stopped the scolding, though, because her poor boy did not have many options for entertainment.

 

 Being a low-end seamstress wasn't the most lucrative occupation, but it was the only one Marya could take on that enabled her to watch over her children. Django worked at a textile factory almost everyday, pretty much from sunup to sundown, leaving very little time for him to spend with the twins. Marya knew this greatly upset him - his family was his whole world. However, his hours away were not spent in vain. Without his petty wages, the Maximoff family would be on the streets, living at the mercy of others whom they begged.

 

 Marya considered herself blessed to be able to spend her days at home with the children; poor Django only got to see them briefly in the mornings and late nights. He sometimes took Pietro to the factory with him so he could teach his son skills he wouldn't have the time to do so otherwise. He was a very devoted father, and Marya wished he got to see the twins more.

 

 Finally, she finished closing the hole on Pietro's shirt and snipped the last piece of thread off. As a habitual precaution of having two young children, she tucked the needle back into the little plastic box with the rest of them. Casting the shirt aside, she got up from the table and peered out the small rectangular window above the kitchen sink. From seven floors up, Marya could see a little blonde boy and an even smaller little brunette girl join a group of children across the street. How she loved watching them happily interact with other children. They were such social little things, and though Wanda was a shy one, Marya knew she enjoyed playing with the other little girls.

 

 Feeling comfortable with this, Marya sat on their barely-standing sofa, sinking deep into the cotton cushions. She would break from her sewing for now, she decided, and rest for a few minutes before preparing dinner. Times like this made her wish she had more magazines or novels to keep herself entertained, but the rational in her knew those items weren't vital. She considered visiting her upstairs neighbor, Leonora, whom Marya had become good friends with recently. However, it was nearing the evening, and she didn't want to bother her at this hour.

 

 So she remained there, staring around her minscle apartment. There was almost one thing she wanted almost as much as she didn't want her babies to grow up, and that was for them to leave Sokovia. Marya loved her country - it was all she had ever known. For generations, her and Django's families dwelled in this small, Eastern European country. This was where their roots stood firm and their values were instilled. But it was no place for children. Not _her_ children, at least.

 

 They played in ash and waste, slept on ancient mattresses, and ate whatever they could to stay alive. It pained Marya that they lived this way, and Sokovia offered no hope for a better future. And the political violence seemed to only increase, getting closer and closer to their block. Thankfully, Wanda was still too young to comprehend the poverty and political unrest that plagued the city around her, and Marya wanted to keep it that way. It would be at the mercy of a miracle to get her daughter out, one of which she prayed for every night. It seemed impossible, but Marya would do anything to keep her little girl safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed creating this chapter, as I loved writing from Marya's perspective and about little Wanda and Pietro. 
> 
> It is a short chapter, but it establishes a lot of details that will define the story later on. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Dreams? As If!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing Pietro's body again, Wanda takes Natasha's advice and talks with Sam, who believes he has a diagnosis. A concerned Steve has a movie night with Wanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a WHOLE month, I know. I didn't intend to take this long to update, but I have been very busy with work, and I experienced a couple weeks of writer's block :/ Super sorry for the long wait! 
> 
> Also, big thank you for everyone who's left comments and kudos to this story! This is my first time publishing a work of mine ever, and I love all the feedback I've been receiving. Still can't believe I have over 1,000 hits! Thank you all so much!

_Avenger's Compound, now_

\-------------------------------------------

 

  It had been three days since the Pietro incident. Wanda had been wary about going to bed those three nights, in fear of it occuring again. But to her luck, it didn't, and she had gotten three nights of peaceful sleep. Which was why she was so startled on the fourth night when she awoke to deep, ragged breathing on the other side of her bed.

  _Don't look. Don't look_. She told herself. _It's just a little spill_. But the breathing did not cease. Her heart was pounding so fast she knew that she had to be awake. The anticipation was killing her; she _had_ to look. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep otherwise.

  Reluctantly, she turned to the right side of her bed, and as she had dreaded, there was Pietro's figure. It was nonetheless terrifying than before, yet if anything more so, and his face looked angrier, like it did when he used to rant about wanting to kill Tony Stark.

  Wanda felt her whole body freeze, but internally she was screaming. She tried to move her arms and legs, but her limbs wouldn't budge. She felt as if there were invisible restraints on her body, preventing her from moving. She tried to summon her scarlet to blast him away, but only a weak trickle escaped from her palms. More panic rose in her. Why wasn't it working? She had to get away, but she was stuck there, staring up at the figure.

"Why didn't you save me, sister?" This time, his lips curled into an unpleasant snarl. "Hmm?"

  The girl emitted silent whimpers, and she tried to force her eyes shut, but they only grew wider and wider until they couldn't anymore.

  Not-Pietro leaned over her, his stare remaining irate. A few drops of sweat that were beaded on his forehead fell onto Wanda's t-shirt. She could feel the entire bed shaking along with her body. Then, a drop of blood fell from his chest onto her upper arm, just as it did before.

  Coming to herself, Wanda tore at the blood-stained area with her nails and screamed out everything she had been holding in. Doing so, she shut her eyes for some seconds, and when she opened them again, the figure was no more. Yet she couldn't stop the screams, nor the terror stirred up in her. She had to get out of this room before it could come back. Through her teary eyes, she rolled off her bed and stumbled towards the door. Anywhere but here had greener grass.

  The door flew open before she could reach it, and she found herself face-to-face with Natasha's pistol.

"Wanda...what the hell?" Natasha lowered her weapon and examined the girl, no doubt noticing the blood on her arm. Shaking her head, she called, "F.R.I.D.A.Y, lights!"

"Sure thing, Natasha." The A.I did as she was instructed. Wanda winced at the sudden brightness.

"I saw him again," whimpered the little witch.

  Natasha gave a heavy sigh. Wanda knew she was about to tell her that at was just dreaming, and that everything was okay. But it was all real, and nothing was okay. Before she could process her own motion, she threw her arms around the older woman and clung to her as if she were the only person in the world. Natasha's body was stiff, but Wanda didn't care. She buried her head into her shoulder and sobbed lightly.

"Oh, Wanda." The Black Widow wrapped her thin arms around her. "It's alright. I've got you." 

  It was childish of her to cling to her mentor like this, Wanda knew. But something about the Widow's softness and warmth that made her feel much better. In her arms she remained, appreciating it when Natasha rubbed her back. Her tears drenched both her face and the other woman's shoulder.

When she had calmed down enough, she mumbled, "He was really here."

"Sweetheart, no one was in here," began Natasha gently. "If there was, F.R.I.D.A.Y would have notified us; I asked her to."

"I have not detected anyone but the Maximoff girl all night," chimed F.R.I.D.A.Y.

  Natasha tried to pull back from her embrace, but Wanda fell right back into her chest. She wasn't ready to prove her point and argue. Natasha allowed her to remain, but only for a few minutes. She took her to the bathroom to wrap up her wound, just as she had done previously. 

"Come," she simply said, taking her hand. 

  Wanda allowed Natasha to lead down the hall and into the common room. She instantly felt more at ease just not being in her own room. Natasha sat her down on one of the couches, and Wanda curled herself into a ball.

"Where are you going?" She asked when the spy disappeared from her sight.

"To get something from the fridge. Just relax," said spy dismissed.

  Wanda groaned and slumped into the couch. It was then that she realized that they had been conversing in Sokovian this whole time. She had forgotten Natasha could speak it. Or maybe it was just part of the time? She wasn't sure. When the older woman returned, she had a glass of milk in her hand. She held it out.

"Here. It'll help you sleep."

Wanda pouted stubbornly and turned away. "I do not want to go back to sleep. Ever."

"That doesn't sound like a very good idea to me," teased Natasha, sitting beside her.

Wanda cast her a glare, trying to replicate the Widow's formidability.

"What? It doesn't." Again, she tried to offer her the glass, and this time the witch accepted it, just to get her off her head about it. Plus, her throat was dry from screaming, anyways. She had intended to only take a single sip, but once she swallowed the first bit of the white liquid, she proceeded to finish the whole glass. Now that it was empty, she set it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Better?" Natasha asked knowingly, brushing a milk stain off of Wanda's upper lip with her thumb.

  The Sokovian hated that the other woman was right once again, but she nodded anyways. Her body felt whole again, though her mind was still traumatized. Thinking the Russian wouldn't mind, Wanda leaned closer to her and rest her head on her shoulder. Squeezing her eyes shut, she muttered, "It was him, Nat. I felt him."

  Natasha took a deep breath. "It was a spill, Wanda. Just like your mother said. You know, feels real, but isn't?"

Wanda sat up and faced her. "No, I _felt_ him." She gestured to her head.

Natasha bit her lip as if she were carefully considering her words. "I think it's time for you to talk to Sam."

Wanda stiffened at the sentence. "I cannot do that. He is not going to believe me...he is going to think I am crazy." _As do you_ , she thought to herself.

"Wanda, it's Sam, not some shithead psychiatrist from S.H.I.E.L.D. Sam knows you; he's your friend. He would never put you in a position that will make you uncomofortable."

  Wanda crossed her arms at her logic, despising how it was all accurate. Sam was her friend, and he had never been anything but nice to her. Additionally, he had helped her through other nightmares before - or, at least tried to.

"I guess you are right," she admitted through a mumble.

 

_

 

  Wanda squirmed and picked at her thumbnail, making eye contact on and off. She was having a hard time coming up with the right words to say, along with battling her reluctance.

"They start out as normal dreams. Or normal nightmares. The first time, I saw him in my dream, and then I woke up, and he was still there, beside my bed. Just as I last saw him before he was...fixed after the battle. But then the second time, he was not in my dream at all. It was not until I woke up that I saw him...it."

  The Falcon leaned back in the chair adjacent to her, legs crossed and hands folded. He nodded thoughtfully at her description. Wanda envied his tranquility. "So the version of your brother that was in your first dream was the same as what you saw when you woke up?" The witch confirmed with a nod. "But the second dream, he wasn't in it, yet you still saw him when you woke?"

"Yes."

"What was that second dream about?"

  Wanda opened her mouth to provide an answer, only to realize that she didn't have one. Her entire memory of that night had been a blank until she woke up. "I...I do not remember."

"Do you think it's possible that he was in there, then?"

  The girl gave a defeated shrug. "I guess, though I do not think so." She had now completely removed the tips of her thumbnail and began to move on to her pointer finger. She regretted telling her mentor about all of this; she wouldn't have had to talk about it if she had done otherwise.

"Hey, you're doing great, Wanda," assured Sam. "Relax a little. We're almost through. I promise."

  Liking the sound of that, Wanda placed her hands in her lap and tried not to pick at her nails. She took a deep breath while waiting for Sam to ask the next question.

"When you see him, what happens? Do you scream instantly, try to rationalize? What?"

  It took her a moment to find the words. She bit her lip. "I-I feel something is there beside my bed. I turn my head, and I see him staring at me. He just stares at me. With his eyes - they look dead. That is when I try to scream, but nothing comes out. It stays in me and grows. And then he smiles. It is not a nice smile; it is a scary one. He asks me, 'Why didn't you save me sister?' And then he says, 'Hmm?' And I-" She didnt realize she was crying until she choked on those words. Through her tears she saw Sam looking up at her in concern. He handed her a tissue, which she gladly took and wiped her face with.

"It can be hard," said Sam with a level voice. "Reliving such a horrific event."

Wanda snorted. She already knew that all too well.

  Sam scratched his eyebrow. "Sorry. You get that, I know. That's just some humanistic shit they teach us in psych school."

"It is okay."

"Would you like to break for a little while? We can take five."

  The girl shook her head. "No." If they stopped now, she would never continue.

"Whenever you're ready, then."

  Wanda squeezed her eyes shut before staring up at the ceiling, blinking her eyes. She cleared her throat and mentally summoned the courage to go on. "When he...does that, I try to run. But I cannot. My arms and legs, they will not move. I try hard, but they will not. So I just lay there for minutes and his blood falls onto me, and that is when I can move and scream. Then, when I blink, he is gone."

  The other Avenger's eyes lit up in realization. He sat up straight and looked her dead into the eye. "You can't move?" Wanda knew it was more of him summarizing than an actual question, yet she shook her head anyways. "You are wide awake, but you can't move. Not right away at least. A few minutes later, though, you can." He stood up abruptly, startling the girl. "Would you mind if I brought Steve and Nat in? I think I've figured out your problem."

"Why not?" Her older teammates were bound to find out sooner or later.

 

_

 

  Steve frowned at his cell phone as he used his thumb to scroll through his feed. He had finally joined this thing called "the Twitter" that Sam had been bugging him to join for three years now. He had made the account earlier this week just to see what all the hype was about. And even now, scrolling through it, he still couldn't see it. People posted the most random messages, and the supersoldier wondered why they couldn't just tell their friends this information. To him, that made a lot more sense.

"Do these Twitter people not have any damn lives or something?" He grumbled out loud.

"Language," came Natasha's voice from behind a novel. She was curled up in an armchair across from him, reading without a care in the world.

Steve sighed. "You're never going to let me live that one down, will you?"

"Umm...no." The Black Widow still did not look up.

"Did you know that I have my own hashtag?"

"I'm sure we all have our own hashtag, Rogers. And it'd be a waste of time to go through all of it."

"Speaking of time, they've been a while, haven't they?" His eyes wandered to the door to the small sitting room, behind which Sam was talking to Wanda about her nightmares.

Natasha shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "Hasn't felt that long to me."

  Steve didn't know how she could be unbothered by all these things. Wanda was literally having night terrors of her dead brother, and physically hurting herself in the process. Their youngest teammate was prone to nightmares, yes, but this one seemed to have shaken her too much.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He asked the spy. "The first time it happened? I'm the captain; it's my job to know this stuff."

  Finally, the redhead stuck her nose up from the book and closed it, marking her place with her pinky finger. "I had it covered. I left it to her liberty to share it with whomever she chose. Which evidently was no one."

  Frustration boiled through Steve. Why didn't Wanda tell him? Did she not feel comfortable enough to talk with him? He thought he was making her feel safe, more at home. But maybe he wasn't doing such a great job after all.

"She's sixteen, Steve," interjected Natasha, reading it all in his face. "She probably doesn't want to relay the feelings talk with great-grandpa. Nothing personal, though."

  She said it humorously, but the captain knew she was right. Why would the kid share anything to a 100 year old man? Regardless, he felt that he had failed her. He looked back at Natasha, who was back into her book again.

"What're you reading?"

Not looking up, she replied, " _The Hunger Games_."

"That's a book, too?" Steve didn't know this, but modern pop culture was so complex that he wasn't suprised by much anymore.

"Yep. Never read it, though. I found it on Wanda's bookshelf."

"You _stole_ her book?"

"Why is that the first thing you assume?" The corners of her lips curled into a smirk. "But technically, yes."

"What if she notices that it's gone?" It was unlikely; the kid had so many books in her room that she didn't even knew she had.

"She hasn't yet. And it's not like she can really read it yet, anyways."

  Right again. Well over a month after they first brought Wanda in, all their dumbasses assumed she knew how to read English simply because she spoke it. Due to her lack of interaction with the bookself, they had teased her about not being much of a bookworm, and it was then that she tearfully confessed that she could not read in their language, making them all rightfully feel like assholes. To make it up to her, the whole team had been teaching her ever since. She was a fast and dedicated learner, but a full novel would be a bit of a challenge for her.

"Think she'd like it?"

  Natasha shrugged. "She might. Though I don't think reading about kids killing each other is the best thing for her now."

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Steve blurted. He knew it was off topic, but he just had to ask. When his partner gave him a confused stare, he added, "You know, with everything? I mean, she's just a kid. Bringing her on to the team...do you think that's a bit much for her? She's already been through a lot."

  Natasha cocked her head to the side. "And what else were we supposed to do, Steve? Leave her in Sokovia, let her keep on being an orphan, never learning how to control her powers?"

"Of course not!" The soldier retorted.

  The woman closed the book once again, not bothering to mark her spot. "She wants to do this, Steve. She wants to make amends for her past. It's how she copes."

"How do you know that?" He noticed that she had been slowly warming up to the younger girl, but he didn't think they were that close.

"I just know." Those three words had the weight of a thousand others unspoken.

  Before Steve could reply, the sound of the door opening behind him made him jump to his feet. Sam emerged, alone.

"Is she okay?"

  His best friend appeared both upset and relieved. "She will be. I've got a rough diagnosis."

"Rough diagnosis? What does that mean?"

"Means I'm pretty sure I know what's going on, but it can't be confirmed without another couple of sessions."

"Let's hear it," said Natasha, now somehow at Steve's side.

"Go into the room, so I can tell all of you at the same time."

  Following Sam's orders, they filed into the room. Wanda watched them enter, her face crimson from crying. Steve hated seeing her like this. Carefully, he took a seat beside her in the couch. "Are you okay, kid?"

  The girl nodded. Natasha sat on the opposite side of Wanda in the far corner. Sam resumed his position in the adjacent chair.

"So, I'll get right to it," initiated Sam. "Wanda?" The girl met his eyes. "It appears to me that you are a victim of sleep paralysis."

Natasha nodded knowingly. "Of course."

  Steve frowned in confusion and glanced down at Wanda, who also didn't appear as lost as he was. He had heard the term before, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. "What is that?"

"It's essentially when the brain has woken up, but the rest of the body hasn't. You're aware of your surroundings, but are unable to feel yourself. As for the 'little spills' you have..." Wanda shuffled on the couch. "Sleep paralysis occurs during REM sleep, or rapid eye movement sleep. It's one of the five stages of the sleep cycle, and it's when your vivid dreams occur. People tend to hallucinate and see things from their dreams in such state."

  Steve had known Wanda was having issues deeper than just nightmares, but hearing Sam relaying the details sounded worse than he had thought.

"Is there anything I can do to make it stop?" Wanda asked quietly, bearing her hopeful eyes into the Falcon's.

"Yes, though it varies due to the severity. I can't draw many conclusions from two occasions, but I suggest that you go to bed around the same time everynight and avoid caffine and watching TV at night."

"That is all?" Wanda sounded surprised. 

"That's all I can say for now. If it happens again, we might have to look into something a little deeper."

  Silence filled the room and remained for the next few minutes. Nobody knew what to say. Wanda was the one to break it, thanking Sam and giving him a quick hug before disappearing to her room, where she stayed until dinner time.

 

_

 

  Sometime after dinner, Steve found Wanda curled up beside a window, leaning against the glass. It was obvious that she was upset, and she had a million reasons to be. He knew there was nothing he could do to undo her past trauma, nor could he stop her from grieving. However, he did have the ability to distract her from it temporarily.

"Hey," he said, causing the startled girl to jump and let out a twinge of scarlet. "Sorry. I'm about to go watch a couple movies before turning in. Would you like to join me?"

The little witch dissolved her scarlet and furrowed her brows. "Before turning in what?"

  _Shit_. He forgot she was still knew to the idioms game. "It's just a saying that means going to bed."

"Oh," she said in understatement.

"So you wanna come? We've got all kinds of popcorn in the kitchen- kettle corn even, if I remember correctly." He watched as Wanda's expression lit up. Kettle corn was her favorite type of popcorn.

She gave a shy shrug. "I guess so. What are you watching?"

"Haven't decided yet. Anything you wanna see?"

  The Sokovian looked as if she were thinking, then her lips curled into a mischievous smirk that the soldier seldom saw. "Could we watch _Clueless_?"

  Steve couldn't help the slight disappointment growing in him. Damn Natasha for ever introducing this child to chick-flicks. Despite himself, he smiled and told her, "Sure thing. Let's go."

  The elation in her face as she skipped beside him to the lounge dissolved all the disdain he had for the movie. He was Captain America, after all. He'd fought aliens and killer robots. Surely he could survive an hour and a half of teenage-girl drama just to keep that smile on the little Avenger's face.

_

  
  Wanda sat beside him on the couch, legs criss-crossed with a bowl of kettle corn popcorn in her lap. She was now in a good disposition, laughing at all the appropriate times and asking him about certain references that she didn't understand. Steve remained a good sport as well, lauging along and answering her questions, whilst he couldn't care less about giggling school girls playing around. He hoped Wanda wasn't getting any ideas.

  They were at the scene where the protagonist Cher Horowitz and her friends went to a Christmas party. The little witch was especially fascinated by this, munching on her popcorn at a faster rate. "Did you ever go to something like that when you were their age?"

  Her gaze was still fixed on the flat screen when the captain looked down at her. This wasn't a question he was expecting. He turned back to the movie as well and replied, "Not quite. I wasn't exactly the cool guy in my high school days."

  He must have said that a little more bitter than he intended, for she turned to him with remorseful eyes and blushed cheeks. "I am sorry, Captain! I forgot that you-"

"It's okay, kid," he cut her off, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. One thing he knew very well about the Sokovian was that she needed reinforcement to feel better about herself. "But I did go to some. My friend Bucky, he was quite the looker then. All the girls swooned over him. He was like Elton." He nodded to said character, who happens to be on the screen at the moment. "So he'd sneak me into some parties that I wasn't invited to."

Wanda gave a small smile. "It sounds like he was a good friend. You miss him terribly, yes?"

  Steve didn't know what all she knew about his dear friend. He was sure that she knew that Bucky was the infamous Winter Soldier, but he didn't think she knew about their time in Washington. Those all being details she didn't need to know for the time being, he mirrored her smile. "Yes, I do. He was the best."

"And that is why you are still looking for him?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. How did she know?

"Sam and Natasha. I heard them one day. They said that you are relentless enough to find him."

  He wondered if they had meant that in a positive note or not. Natasha had warned him not to pull on that thread, and even Sam had expressed his concerns over getting involved with the HYDRA asset. Though he respected their care and opinions, Steve knew that he had to help his friend. Bucky was still inside the shell of this Winter Soldier; he knew it.

"I owe it to him," he said. "To save him, like he always saved me."

  Wanda gave him a saddened look that told him a thousand words. She was like Natasha in that sense. Perhaps it was some European thing he didn't get. He could guess she the girl was thinking: her brother had always saved her, too, but in the end she couldn't save him. He wished this topic hadn't been brought up; it had ruined the whole purpose for this movie night. Instead of distracting her from her nightmares, he managed to drag her right back into them.

"You are a good man, Steve," she declared softly. Then, she set the nearly empty bowl of popcorn onto the side table before leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you "

"For what?" Shouldn't he be thanking her?

"For being a good man," she elaborated. "Most of the men I have known were...not very good." There she went with the unspoken words again.

  Steve put an arm around her and allowed her to snuggle closer to him. "Wanda, I'm not perfect. But I promise that I will never do anything to hurt you." God knew she needed at least one positive male in her life.

"I believe you," she whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	6. Out of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha contemplates the Wanda situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! I have been super busy these past couple of months, and I experienced a patch of writer's block. Don't worry; I will be picking this story back up. Thank you for your patience!

  They started watching the third _Star Wars_ , a film that neither of them had ever seen. Not even halfway into it, Wanda fell fast asleep against Steve. It had taken him a few minutes to realize it, and when he did, he was unsure of what to do. She was sleeping so well, and after what happened to her the previous night, she really needed that sleep. He was reluctant to move her; she might wake and not be able to fall back asleep. On the other hand, he didn't feel like finishing the movie, and he didn't want to leave her down here by herself. 

  So he turned the TV off and very carefully pulled away from her so he could lift her into his arms. She was incredibly light, somehow even more so than Natasha. It took practically no effort to cradle her comfortably. He swiftly made his way to the elevator. Once inside, he whispered for F.R.I.D.A.Y to take them to the third floor. On the way up, Wanda began to stir, and Steve was certain that she would wake, but the girl only curled an arm around his torso. 

  When they arrived, Steve looked around the common room for Natasha, but his eyes met no one. Though a little disappointed, he continued to carry Wanda into her bedroom. The room was starting to look a bit of a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere and snack wrappers littered all over the floor. He'd talk to her about it tomorrow, even though he knew it was a sign that she was starting to feel at home here. The Sokovian used to feel the need to preserve the room exactly as it was when she first recieved it, moving every accessory if it were to move so much as an inch from its original location. They all had thought she had OCPD, but it turned out that she was just a very polite, considerate person. 

  He pulled back her grey duvet and gently laid her on the mattress. Upon coming in contact with her bed, the little witch curled up on her side, clutching her pillow between her two hands. Her preferred sleeping position, Steve noticed. He began to tuck her, pulling the covers over her body and stopping just below the chin. Laying there, she looked far younger than her sixteen years. The world had been all too cruel for this little one. The child had witnessed violence, death, and hate her entire life. And he thought being a bullied asthmatic was bad. He left the room, turning off the lights and closing the door on his way out.

 

-

 

  Natasha layed on her stomach with her feet kicked up in the air. She was in her bed, polishing the knife she always kept under her pillow. She never actually had to use it here; no threats have snuck up to her bedroom before. But she liked to keep it nice and ready for anything whatever come what may. She had a hand gun in the first drawer of her nightstand, yes. However, if anyone were to come for her, it would take a few seconds too long to reach it. The knife she could withdraw without another knowing. Suprise was her favorite element. 

  As she worked the cloth around the blade, she couldn't help her mind from wandering to Wanda. Despite her initial wariness of the Sokivian, the girl had yet to produce a negative side effect of her residence. Not only did it being out the protective side of the boys, Natasha liked having another person with less testosterone around, even if that person was still a child. And though she would never admit it, she had been excited when she took her newest teamate clothes shopping, even if she had to explain to Wanda a thousand times that she could buy anything she desired; Stark was paying.

  Overall, Wanda was a good kid. She didn't bother anyone, shy thing that she was. And she was ever polite, almost overly so. It took weeks for Natasha to get her to stop addressing her as "Miss Romanoff". She had to admit it was extremely adorable when Wanda uncertainty said "Natasha" for the first time with her thick accent. The Black Widow might have smiled that day. 

  Wanda was starting to do so well. Then, she had to get hit with sleep paralysis. Natasha found it weird that it was starting just now. The girl never experienced it before in her life, or at least, she never mentioned it. It made the older woman feel terrible that there wasn't much she could do for her. Seeing Wanda so terrified with endless tears spilling from her big, round eyes on both of those nights had really tugged on the heartstrings Natasha wasn't aware of owning. All she could do was try to comfort her when the worst happened. And she felt she wasn't doing too great at that, either.

  A flash of light that was reflect off the knife hit Natasha's eye. This was when she could stop. She set the cloth aside and gingerly folded the blade back in. Slipping it under her pillow, she decided to retrieve a cup of water from the kitchen. When she reached the common room, she noticed Steve making his way to the elevator. A part of her wanted to sneak up on him and give him a playful scare, but she felt that now was not the appropriate time for that. Instead, she called out, "Hey."

  The captain stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking suprised. "Hey." He parroted. 

  Natasha proceeded to the kitchenette and took out a glass. "What brings you up here on this fine hour?"

  He made his way over to her and rested his hands on the counter. "I was bringing Wanda up to bed. She fell asleep while we were watching a movie."

"Watching a movie!?" The Russian spun around to face him. "After Sam specifically told us she should avoid TV before bed?"

  His face reddened with relization and guilt. "Oh, shit, Natasha. That totally left my mind!"

  While he was feeling like an idiot asshole, Natasha filled her glass up with some cold water from the refrigerator and took a sip. 

"Do you think she'll be okay tonight?"

Natasha shrugged. "Only time will tell."

Steve sighed into his hands. "I feel like an idiot."

"Feel like?" She teased. "What did you watch?"

"We watched _Clueless_ and then one of the _Star Wars_ \- I don't remember which one, but it out her to sleep."

  Natasha nearly choked on the sip she had taken at the first half of his sentence. "You watched _Clueless_?" If there was anything Steve Rogers hated more than bullies, it was chick-flicks. 

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "It was her request! She picked one and I picked one."

  Natasha felt a warm smile threatening to form on her face. He was such a softie when it came to Wanda; she noticed it as soon as they had put the Sokovian in the Quinjet with them on the way home from the battle. She didn't think he was capable of telling the girl no. 

"I admire her taste," she said. 

"But _she_ doesn't do it to torture me."

The Black Widow pursed her lips. "You don't know that."

Steve chuckled. "You're right. I don't know that. The two of you have been spending a lot more time together lately."

Natasha want around the counter and climbed onto one of the bar stools. "Well, we do share the same floor."

He twitched his eyebrows. "That's part of the reason I thought the two of you would hit it off earlier. Took a longer than I thought."

"You and I weren't exactly the best of friends when we first met, were we, Rogers?"

"That's not the same."

"How so?" This she asked even though she already knew exactly how so. She and Wanda were the only females on the team. They both came from an Eastern European country. They both left their parents when they were tiny children. They were both robbed of a normal, happy childhood. They were both trained to be a murder weapon for a terrorist organization. They were both constantly trying to prove that they were good. They both felt out of water here in... _Oh_ _God_ , she thought, _We are the same person._

Steve shrugged lightly, obviously trying to find the right thing to say. "Well, you have many similarities past the obvious."

Natasha finished the remainder of her water and rested against the counter. "We're cool with each other. She's a great kid."

He smiled and nodded. "She is. We got lucky didn't we?"

She raised a brow in agreement. "That we did."

"What if she was one of those girls that blared screemo music and stomped around all day, slamming doors in our faces?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Don't jinx it, Rogers."

_

 

  After they said goodnight and Steve left for his own floor, Natasha went over to Wanda's room and very carefully opened the door. The girl was laying under the duvet peacefully with not a hint of fear or discomfort on her face. It hurt Natasha's heart that she couldn't always sleep so soundly.   
_Please be okay, malyshka. Please be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
